Down
by TheUn-POP-ableBubble
Summary: Sequel to Up. It's been a rough couple days on the Kaiba brothers. Something's been broken between them and Seto doesn't know how to mend it...


**Author's Note: This is just a little sequel to my previous fic: "Up". (Yeah, I kinda thought the title would work well (; ) Anyway, this story takes place about 10-11 years after "Up" and I suppose it's more a canon fic now. Since there's not much more to say, I'll stop talking and let you get on to reading. Oh, and Happy New Years!**

The limo had them home before they even realized it.

Despite being irritable and exhausted from the long day, eighteen year old Seto Kaiba took great care to make sure his younger brother entered the mansion first, reveling in the truth that his treasure was still whole, still safe. At least, the boy _seemed_ well enough; tired and a little shocked perhaps, but that was to be expected so soon after a kidnapping. Even the pale tone of his face was a step up from the first time he'd been taken – he had been violently sick after that time. But, thanks to unfortunate experience, Mokuba had overcome that, along with the nightmares and paranoia.

Seto sighed as he watched Mokuba silently strip himself of his winter coat and scarf. He was too young, he thought; too young to be separated so often from the last of his family.

Mokuba had once told his brother that kidnappings and abductions rarely frightened him anymore. He had no reason to be scared when his brother – his _nii-sama _– always came to rescue him. Every Time. Without Fail.

But this time, he had been close; too close. Seto could tell that Mokuba was shaken, could sense that he hadn't been able to tell himself that everything would be okay. And he didn't blame him.

Three days. They had kept Mokuba hidden from him for _three days_. And even now, he didn't quite know how they managed it. He was the CEO of a major corporate company, hoards of satellite systems and armies of trained men at his disposal, but for _three days_, Seto hadn't been able to locate his little brother. For three days, Seto hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't worked. All he'd done was search, and _hunt_ for the men who stole his brother away.

It hadn't been particularily difficult once the men finally sent out a note for ransom, but the men were smart, talented at covering their tracks, and light on their feet. Or, at least, they _had been_.

Scowling at the fresh memory of their worthless faces, Seto shrugged off his own coat with a snap in his wrists. Mokuba turned to look. And it was within this look, that Seto truly realized what those men had done to his brother. They had broken something inside of him. Broken a _secret something_ that had been shared between brothers – something that they both believed in, both used as their central support.

And it had been shattered. Snapped. Fractured. Cut. That _secret something_ that held their diminished family together had been attacked, and had been _wounded_.

Seto didn't know what to do faced with this realization. Something had shifted in Mokuba's eyes – something that redefined his trust in his brother, redefined his faith in him. It hadn't been destroyed – _thank god_ – but it still was not the same.

Because Seto had been studying him so closely, he was prepared when Mokuba quickly stepped towards him for a hug. Seto patted the head of black hair with idle amusement; Mokuba's head rested against his lower chest – his brother still had some growing left to do. Feeling him start to quiver, Seto bent down to bring Mokuba into his arms and carried him to a nearby couch, setting them both down in front of the fire that Roland must have lit for them.

Even with his brother's height now, Mokuba wasted little time in tucking his head underneath Seto's – moving his hands so that they clutched the shirt near his face, forcing him to breathe in the safety of his brother's scent. Seto, in turn, kept his arms snug around Mokuba – keeping his cheek close to the feel of his brother's hair, moving with the young one's breathing pattern.

"You've never taken so long to find me," a whispered fear said.

"I know." Reminded of his near-failure, Seto grasped his brother tighter. "I'm sorry, Mokuba." Because what more could he say when he had almost _lost him_? When he had let those men harm his brother's spirit?

Mokuba shook his head and sniffed. He was probably holding back tears. "I'm just glad you did."

Raising a three year old Mokuba had been a difficult task when Seto was only nine. Luckily, Seto had managed to anticipate everything that could trouble him or Mokuba, and made certain to provide all that they needed when he defeated Gozaburo in that chess match. However, there was one thing that Seto hadn't anticipated – snuggling. The physical comfort that Mokuba would require after every nightmare, the hug he would want after every bad day at the school Gozaburo made him attend, the hand he wanted to hold on the anniversary of their parents' death – those, Seto had never considered before they happened.

For the truth was this: Mokuba Kaiba was a hopeless cuddle-bug.

And as they sat there – quiet and at relative peace as they fell down in to sleep – the Kaiba brothers began to mend that _special something_, the room still all but for their breathing and the crackling fire.


End file.
